Silver Shadow
by Mizuki99
Summary: Semi-AU. When Daemon takes a blow intended for Giotto, everyone believes it was pure luck that they had been by a village with someone experienced in medicine—they just hadn't expected someone so young... but as fate begins to unravel, the question arises. Was it really luck—or was it all part of a bigger scheme? First Gen fic. G27. Follows the doors opened in What Could Have Been


**_Author's Note_**: Another impulse story. I really need to stop doing these. They usually end up being shitty before I rewrite them. Oh well...

By popular demand! This story follows the doors opened in _What Could Have Been _where Tsuna meets Giotto under _very_ different circumstances.

Okay, so let me clarify some things and explain others a little bit. First things first, **_THERE WILL BE NO GUARDIANS! _**I might give the Arcobaleno a cameo appearance or use Reborn as a plot-device later on simply because of how angst I can make that _but_ don't hold your breath. I'm still not entirely sure I want to do that yet.

Now for the setting. Tsuna is an immigrant from Japan which has become a place too violent to live. There will be snippets that I add later on that depict his past as he's only been in Italy for six years (since he was seven) so I won't spoil too much but beware of dark themes which appear frequently. This story is rated T but will become rated M in later chapters because of graphic depictions of blood, violence and (much, _much_ later) smut. Don't hold your hopes up for any of that in current chapters because that won't happen for quite some time. There may be some things (like medicinal mixtures that probably shouldn't exist, terms that haven't been created yet, etc.) that are off but either assume that's part of the plot or ignore it. I'm a bit out of my element here.

**_Enjoy the read._**

* * *

The wind shifted.

Thirteen year old Tsunayoshi—or Tsuna, as the local villagers had taken to calling him after he and his mother had migrated here from Japan (and in truth, he couldn't blame them for giving him a nickname. His name was a mouthful to say for people who weren't native to the land of his birth)—resisted the urge to bare his teeth in a snarl when the large buck's nostrils flared at he took off into the underbrush.

He knelt down and picked up a handful of leaves and dirt and let it fall as the wind began to blow again. With the direction memorized, Tsuna took off in a wide arc in the same direction the deer had run off in. His mouth set into a determined frown when he caught sight of the creature again, only this time, he was downwind. Taking in the angle and the speed of the wind, Tsuna raised the blade that was held deftly between his index finger and thumb and let the blade fly. Hearing a strange sound, the buck looked up just in time for the blade to slice cleanly between his eyes.

Tsuna smiled to himself. The pelt and antlers would catch a hefty price down in the marketplace come tomorrow evening—and if he could make some dried meat out of the thigh muscles, he'd get double what he normally got. Hell, he already had the seasoning for it.

After wrapping the buck in a large quilt of screening material and tying the ends together with some rope, he threw the rope through a fork in one of the numerous trees in this area. He caught it before it could hit the ground and pulled hard. When the buck was high enough off of the ground to keep scavengers away, he tied it to the base of another tree and deemed his prey safe to leave while he went to gather the rest of what he had gathered.

Tsuna ducked through the trees and reached for the traps he set in the stream to catch some fish. They were elaborate and more commonly found in Japan as opposed to the southwest side of Sicily, where he was now, but they worked and Tsuna wasn't about to stop what worked. He waited until the fish stopped thrashing about in the trap to wrap them in bundles of hide that he used for the specific purpose of keeping the trout tender and put them at the bottom of the satchel he used to carry the smaller pieces of his day's work.

The fish he had caught where large—good for three or four meals each—and he had caught a total of four of them. Unfortunately, they took up most of the space in his satchel. It was a good thing he had the foresight to bring two this time, he supposed. It enabled him to carry more and since the busy season was coming, he'd need the extra supplies.

The busy season lasted for eight months—from mid-to-late spring to early fall—and their village usually made a lot of profit during that time because it was one of many villages en-route to the marketplace which absolutely _thrived_ and since winter (the ultimate slow season) had come to a close, it was time for Tsuna to restock on the more important things that kept his small business running.

Tsuna moved through the brush quickly, the gourds he used to gather water clacking together while the liquid inside sloshed about. He made sure to fill them only three fourths of the way full because he had a habit of cramming berries, mints or both into them to flavor the water that he had multiple uses for.

Juice was a luxury—one that he could make himself and it prevented him from getting sick as often as he would otherwise.

It also protected other people.

Not very many people knew that the effect the herbs and wild berries Tsuna gathered was what saved them from becoming like the rest of the people that surrounded their little community… but Tsuna did and he made a small living off of it.

His mother, in the years after they migrated from Japan which had become a place too violent to live, taught him how to save someone from the brink of death using only plants. At first, Tsuna had been skeptical because how could a _plant_ save someone from dying? But low and behold—he had watched her do it when Emiliano (the local inn/tavern keeper) came in with a life-threatening case of blood poisoning after he'd cut open his ankle on a couple of rocks. He walked out with his head on his shoulders and a still-beating heart four days later.

But when his mother fell ill, no matter how many herbs he forced down her throat, she couldn't fight it. She slipped away in her sleep a week after the ailment struck—and to this day, Tsuna didn't know what the illness that took her from him was.

While he was mourning, the village took care of him. They had become his family—especially Emiliano and his wife, Sonya (who was also an immigrant from the icy cold lands of Russia). After that, he took especial care in learning how to mix certain herbs to make medicine. It was his turn to take care of them.

There were people that took priority, of course, like Old Man Zeno, his wife Caroline and their daughter Moira who was pregnant (and well on her way to giving birth) but they were special cases—ones that paid extra, or so he told himself.

It was an easy life compared to how it had been.

'_Stop,_' Tsuna thought forcefully. '_You swore to yourself that you'd forget that vile place._' He shook his head for good measure. '_You're here now, not there, so just forget about them._'

He stopped walking and scanned the clearing. When he found the plants he was looking for, he knelt down and began picking them. He was careful to avoid the buds and the plants that were beginning to seed—it was best to keep the population flourishing, he recalled his mother telling him—but made sure to grab enough to start him off.

When he was done, he had a variety of medicinal herbs at his disposal. He tied them in separate bundles before tucking them into the other satchel.

He looked up at the sky and noted how close to midday it had come. He had time for one more place before he was to go meet Emiliano at the edge of the forest so he could help him carry his game back to the village ("At least you can put that man to good use." Sonya said when he asked if he could borrow him at noon. "All he does around here is serve booze to the locals.").

He smiled when he reached the edge of the forest. Surrounding him were bushes with different types of berries—most of them edible. There were a few iffy ones that gave people a severe case of diarrhea if they even _looked_ at it the wrong way but even they had a use for someone like Tsunayoshi.

He took special care when he gathered the sweet little fruits, separating them into different baskets (he made sure to keep them hidden in the rotted out logs that littered this area of the forest—the baskets were medium in size and were designed to be stacked on top of one another without harming the contents inside. His mother had gotten them from the market when she realized how many berries grew in this area) and never mixing the types or picking the ones that had wholes where the slugs had eaten from them.

When he was finished, all of his baskets were full and the plants still had more on them. He nodded to himself—this was a good gather. Moira said she was craving a cobbler. Now she could make one.

After they were stacked into two towers, Tsuna wove the last strand of rope through the handles woven onto the sides so they would be easy to carry. He made his way back to the edge of the forest where Emiliano was already waiting. "Ah, that looks like a nice catch." He grinned.

Emiliano was an average looking man with a mop of brown hair and matching brown eyes. His skin was tanned from doing repairs on the inn he and his wife ran. He also worked on every other house in the village.

"It was." Tsuna said with a smile. "I caught a buck."

"Nice!" He whooped, grabbing one of the baskets and carrying them back to town. He had faith in Tsuna's abilities to keep the scavengers away. "Any fish?" Tsuna paused outside of his house/small clinic. It was a medium-sized two-story cottage-like house with an attic and a basement. The basement was large and had shelves where he kept the medicine and supplies. He kept it under a very heavy lock and key. The first floor was where he lived—save for one room where he kept patients he had to keep under constant surveillance—while the second floor was designated to the clinic.

"Four very large trout," Tsuna replied, shrugging off his satchels and setting them down next to the scruffy armchair.

The bottom floor, which he lived on, had four rooms on it—two bedrooms, a lavatory and a sitting room. The sitting room was divided by a counter that came off of the wall across from the door. A pot-belly stove sat opposite of a large fireplace that held a cast-iron stock-pot that sat off to the side, unused. Next to the pot-belly stove was a small sink, a basket that had some bread in it and a few dark-wood cupboards. One of the bedrooms, the farthest one back at the base of the mahogany stairs, was the room he had converted into the "observational" room.

Upstairs had four larger rooms that lined the hall. The larger rooms had three beds in them. The beds were small but when one is sick and is in dire need of treatment, they didn't get to choose. Each bed was sectioned off by a folding screen that tucked back into the wall for privacy.

"Shall we go?" Tsuna prompted after the berries were set on the counter in what would be the kitchen.

* * *

Emiliano grunted under the weight of the buck. "Looks like this is going to last a while. Are you going to trade it?"

"That was the plan." Tsuna replied, bundling the rope and screening material together. "I was going to use the thigh muscles to dry it out and make jerky. That goes for double what the antlers and hide would go for. If you want anything leftover, you can have it."

Emiliano's eyebrows shot up. "That's very generous, boy. Are you sure you don't want to use some for yourself?"

"What am I going to use an eighty pound buck for, Emiliano?" Tsuna deadpanned. "I suppose I could give half to Liander." Liander was the butcher and Emiliano's cousin as well as Moira's husband. He took the animals that Tsuna killed and made them into steaks. When travelers came through, they took one look at the scarred and beefy man and steered clear—unless they were going to get something from his shop. Liander would tell him the same thing, though, he mused. Those two men may only be cousins but they thought like brothers.

Acted like it too.

"You know he's going to tell you the same thing, right?" Emiliano said dryly.

"Probably," Tsuna admitted. "But that doesn't change how I feel." Skinning the thing would be a chore and a half. Stretching and curing the leather would be another chore and a half. Add that to the overall list of things Tsuna had to do before he went to the marketplace and that was just too much damn work for one thirteen year old to complete and even if he did manage to complete it, the meat would go bad. At least this way, it was being eaten and not wasted.

Emiliano seemed to see it from Tsuna's point of view because he dropped the subject. The older man went around the cottage and dropped the buck next to the chopped wood pile. Tsuna hummed to himself, going inside and grabbing two of the trout. "Be sure to share some of that stew."

"Oh, you know it."

And with that, the man left Tsuna to work. Tsuna nodded in thought, checking the gathering process off of his list. He needed to see how much of the supplies he was going to need before he went out and traded some—the herbs were all his but the barley and wheat he'd gathered went to the bakery. He'd be given some breadsticks and olive oil in exchange. Half of the buck was going to Liander and Moira. They'd probably give him horsetail hair—something he couldn't get in the marketplace. He used it for stitches.

Such a long list of things he needed to get done.

* * *

"Shit—we're outnumbered!" G shouted. Beside him, Daemon snarled under his breath. There was no end to these fools! He spun his scythe around him, cutting through their ribs as though they were nothing more than toothpicks while G's arrows rained down in a hail of red fire around them.

But even as they displayed their terrifying strength, there was just _too many enemies_ to fend off all at once and while not all of them had Dying Will Flames, there was enough of them to cause worry.

"Giotto!" G cried out, spinning when his 'Boss Radar' began to prickle.

"I'm kind of busy right now, G." Giotto said in that eerily calm voice he always used when he was in Hyper Dying Will Mode. He cursed under his breath—he was growing tired of this dance. Leaping back to put some distance between him and them, he shot Alaude and Daemon a warning glance before he actually finished switching between Hyper Dying Will and Zero Point Breakthrough. When all of his Elements prepared to jump, he fell and slammed his fist into the ground. His Flames fanned out beneath the earth and jagged spikes of ice came up and engulfed some of them while impaling others.

That ended it.

Giotto blew out a breath while he regained his footing on his Dying Will. It always took him a few moments to recover when he switched between the two modes.

"Well _that_ was exciting, nufufu." Daemon snickered.

"Too close for my liking." Asari said with a furrow of his brow.

"I agree." Giotto said while Knuckle crossed himself and murmured a prayer of forgiveness. The ice shattered around them causing the bodies trapped inside to shatter along with it.

More blood spilt, Giotto thought self-loathingly. One of these days, the devil was going to give them their due and they wouldn't be able to do a damned thing about it.

"Shall we go?" Giotto asked. They had a long way before they could get back to Palermo. His Flames faded and his Intuition did a little two-step to make up for the difference.

What few people knew was that during his transition from Hyper Dying Will Mode to Everyday Giotto Mode, he was at his weakest. It was only a second—while his Intuition made up for the loss of Flame—but if someone was fast enough, they could break through his defenses and end him.

And that's almost what happened.

Had it not been for Daemon Spade's quick reflexes, Giotto would have been on the floor, choking to death on his own blood.

Daemon only had a second's notice—a shift in the wind that no one else seemed to have noticed—that warned him of what was to come. Without warning, he dropped his scythe and spun to shove Giotto out of the way before the throwing knife could hit him at the fatal point that was his diaphragm.

Daemon had never been so thankful for their height differences before now.

Giotto fell against the cobblestone, his palms scraping painfully while the knife skimmed Daemon's side in a deep and very painful wound that sent him staggering to his knees. His body lurched as his vision began to blink in-and-out of existence and the last thought he had before the world was lost to him was, '_The blade was poisoned._'

* * *

"That's the last of it." Tsuna said as Moira helped him tie down his packages on the horse's saddle.

"Are you sure you should be going alone?" She asked fiddling with a curly back strand of hair that blended with the night. Even the lantern she hung on the post outside of Tsuna's cottage did little to help him see the thick black mass that was her messy hair.

"'Course. I've been there a dozen times before, Moira. I'll be fine." Tsuna assured as he fastened the gourds to his satchel. He had salted the fish to preserve them for the two-day journey. "Don't worry. All that worrying can't be good for the baby."

Out of habit, she touched her swollen belly. "What if I go into labor and you're not here to help me?" She asked, a hint of a smile playing at her lips now. They both knew that wasn't a possibility—at least not yet.

"Emiliano will just have to help you." He said, trying to contain his laughter before he even finished the sentence. His composure lasted all of two seconds. Even Moira had to laugh along with him.

That poor man would be so frazzled. At least Sonya had experience in delivering children.

"Do be careful," She said, hugging Tsuna with one arm. "We'd be so lost if our only doctor were to perish while away on business."

Tsuna was about to open his mouth and say he could protect himself when a shout caught his attention. "Tsuna!" He tilted his head to the side and looked in the direction it came. Liander was helping a young blond man in expensive clothes carry a different young man with viridian hair. Tsuna blinked in shock, his lips parting slightly as the scent of blood caught his senses.

"What happened?" Tsuna asked, his eyes snapping towards Emiliano who was trailing behind. When the man started talking, he knelt to inspect the wound.

"We were patrolling the ridge when we found him. It looks like a stab wound—this gentleman here says the blade was poisoned." Tsuna didn't have to look up from his examination to know that Emiliano jerked a thumb at the blond. "Well you're right about the blade being poisoned." He muttered, "I can't do anything out here. Get him inside." The wound would need stitches at the very least.

There was a rumble overhead that caused Tsuna to grimace. A storm would be settling in before the night was over. "The rest of you can head over to Emiliano's inn for the night. I'll let you know when I've done all I can."

The others moved in compliance but the blond's eyes darkened momentarily. Tsuna got the impression that, if he hadn't been holding his drifting companion, he would have stepped forward as though to challenge Tsuna's authority. "I'm staying."

Tsuna gave him a cursory glance before nodding, knowing that he wasn't going to back down. "So be it." He said, holding the door. Tsuna washed his hands with salt before heading into the room that Liander and the newcomer had laid out the third man. Tsuna peeled away the clothes that stuck to the wound and felt his eyes narrowing.

Yes. The wound was definitely poisoned—and Tsuna knew what the poison was. He was very familiar with it, having treated a few mafia thugs that came through. He also knew that the plant that countered the poison didn't grow in Sicily—it didn't even grow on this continent. It was native to Japan…

…and wasn't it just lucky that the merchant that brought he and his mother here after his father's untimely demise sold that very herb? Unfortunately, it was a very fast acting poison. If Tsuna didn't purge some of it from his system while the wound was still open, he'd be dead before the sun would even rise.

"Liander, I need you to get that jar with the root in it—the amber one." Tsuna said, already reaching for the syringe and dipping it into a glass of pure alcohol to disinfect the needle. Liander set it down next to him. Tsuna took some of the liquid and injected it into his bloodstream.

"What is that?"

Tsuna shot him an annoyed glance. "Something to buy your friend here some time." He said but offered nothing beyond that. "If you can't keep your questions to yourself, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The man flinched—he didn't want to leave. Tsuna was tempted to tell him that he didn't have a choice in the matter because he had to stitch the wound and that was always hard to do when there were more people than necessary in the room.

When the wound started to secrete a black liquid, Tsuna decided that maybe it was best for his patient's companion to leave the room.

Things were about to get a whole lot more bloody.

**_Tsuzukeru._**

* * *

I'm going to map out the OCs a little bit. Some I've mentioned, others will make an appearance later. I'll still do an introductionary paragraph or two for them in the story itself. This is mostly so I don't confuse myself (or my readers) and mix them up.

Liander and Moira - They run the butcher shop. Moira is eight and a half months pregnant with wild black hair and brown eyes. Liander is a burly man with a scraggly dark brown beard and scars all over his body.

Emiliano and Sonya - They run the local tavern/inn. Sonya is a Russian immigrant with blond hair and ice-blue eyes. Emiliano has dark brown hair with matching eyes and a sun tan that never seems to fade.

Old man Zeno and Caroline - They're the farmers that live up on the hill a little way's away from the village. They're Moira's parents.

Victor - The baker. Wife left him and took the kids. When he collapsed in the village with pneumonia, Liander dragged him to Nana who treated him. He's been there ever since. He has black hair and green eyes with burn scars littering his arms from the large oven. Blind in his right eye which is milky blue. He has a hairline scar that starts in the center of his forehead and traces through his eye and stops at the top of his jaw.

**_Thanks for reading~!_**


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